


Light Up Your Scars

by I_am_a_Warrior



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Bromance to Romance, Demon Hunter!Au, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hunter - Freeform, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Ice Skating, Ice skates, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, Marco Iceskates, Marco ice skates, Multi, OC, Psychological Horror, Romance, Slow Build, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Thriller, attack on titan - Freeform, jean kirstein - Freeform, jean wears a red beanie, jeanmarco, levi/petra - Freeform, marco bott - Freeform, possible triggers, shingeki no kyojin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Warrior/pseuds/I_am_a_Warrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a sin to be ignorant.<br/>Indeed it was a dark act to never perceive the world around as a whole, keeping to yourself, being unlearned in the truth. The symbol of death in his clutches, with its holy power spewing out in a blazing symphony to which he was the conductor and the composer, the din of the dead rang in his ears, and his eyes burned as the inferno consumed the beast from Hell.<br/>But it was a delight, oh how pleasurable it was to not know of this world, this world in its entirety. Where the spiritual realm and the physical realm intermixed - there were horrors unimaginable and how he longed to go back to his life of lazy Sunday mornings and restful evenings that felt like they had happened in a time long since past. But he could not.<br/>This was the life that he led.<br/>And he could never go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Up Your Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is my first JeanMarco fic and it's a DemonHunter!AU. Why a DemonHunter!AU? Because I cannot find a DemonHunter!AU multi-chapter story for the Jeanmarco ship.  
> Here's hoping that it's good.
> 
> Oh, and sorry that Jean's not gonna be in the first chapter, but he will be in the second one!

It was a sin to be ignorant.

Indeed it was a dark act to never perceive the world around as a whole, keeping to yourself, being unlearned in the truth. The symbol of death in his clutches, with its holy power spewing out in a blazing symphony to which he was the conductor and the composer, the din of the dead rang in his ears, and his eyes burned as the inferno consumed the beast from Hell.

But it was a delight, oh how _pleasurable_ it was to not know of this world, this world in its _entirety_. Where the spiritual realm and the physical realm intermixed - there were horrors unimaginable and how he longed to go back to his life of lazy Sunday mornings and restful evenings that felt like they had happened in a time long since past. But he could not.

This was the life that he led.  
And he could never go back.

* * *

  

Marco awoke with a sudden jolt, gasping for breath.

He looked around his small bedroom; papers and clothes strewn about the place, the small rug in the middle - its corner upturned from where he tripped, the bean bag chair with piles of books littered around it from where he did his late-night reading, his closet doors open, and his curtains closed, blocking out the early morning sunlight.

Marco sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled, black hair (truth be told, his hair was always disheveled, it was just worse in the mornings) trying to recall the dream - the nightmare - that had happened just last night. Only flashes came to mind. A bloody, disembodied hand, a foggy marsh - bog - what have you, and a blood curdling scream that still resonated in his ears.

“Damn,” Marco breathed, “It just keeps getting worse.” He looked at the clock on his nightstand. _6:18 AM_ it read. No use trying to go back to sleep, he told himself. He heaved himself out of bed and lumbered his way to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Marco made his morning coffee. Its bitter scent filling his nostrils as he poured it into the red mug with some design etched into it. He could never make out what was on the mug, but he never questioned it either. Besides, his grandmother gave it to him, and Marco loved his grandmother. But as he leaned against his countertop and took a sip of the dark liquid, he remembered that something was going to happen today, but what?

A loud _‘bang’_ startled him out of his thoughts. Ah, that’s right, Marco thought, new neighbors. The apartment next to him, 3B, had been empty for quite sometime and it had been a topic of conversation when call came in asking to rent the apartment. But that wasn’t what made it the gossip that it was, what made it so was that they didn’t even come _look_ at the apartment before renting it.

They, yes, they. Two people were to be moving in today, a mother and a daughter, from what Marco had heard. He would go over later today and welcome them to the Lincoln Apartment Complex. Another ‘ _bang_ ’ sounded from the apartment. Maybe he should go over sooner rather than later…

Marco put his coffee mug in the sink and looked at the clock on the wall, _7:10_ it read. Marco’s eyebrows shot up, he had spent all that time enjoying _coffee_? Wow, just wow, his subconscious told him. _Just shut up…_ he retorted to himself as he sped back to his room.

He practically dove into his closet looking for something to throw on. He found one of his favourite graphic tee’s - the one where the design is faded because it’s been through the wash so many times because that’s how much it’s been worn - the one that had a phoenix spreading its flaming wings out across the girth of the full blood moon behind it. Marco then found a clean pair of bootcut jeans and threw those on, afterwhich, he raced to the bathroom to try and tame his messy hair and brush his teeth.

Marco looked into the mirror and smiled at himself, but his freckled reflection didn’t smile back.

_What the hell…?_

“Gaahh!” Marco cried, his back arching.

Pain, white hot, searing pain coursed through his body. First his lower back, then his spine, then his shoulders, then his head. He hunched over the sink, white-knuckling the marble imitation countertop with one hand, the other grasping his forehead.

The color red flashed before his eyes. His ears began to ring.

A person...a man…

“Make it stop!” Marco shrieked.

A face twisted in horror, a bloodied hand on the ground. And suddenly, everything stopped.

Maro’s eyes opened, wide with fright. He looked around. He was still in his bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. Not taking his eyes off of the mirror, Marco moved his hand. His reflection mimicked him. “What the hell was that?” he murmured. It was just like, no, it was _exactly_ like his nightmare, except, in more detail. Marco took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, dismissing all that had happened to be related to his lack of sleep.

As he shut the door to his apartment behind him, little goose bumps made their way onto the back of his neck. He knew this feeling, he knew it well, this was the feeling of being watched. He spun around, his eyes scanning the hallway for any trace of the individual that was watching him. Marco saw no one. He let out a breath that he had unknowingly held, but he didn’t feel his body relax. Had he tensed up? Had his reflexes taken over?

He looked down at his hands alarmed in finding that they had clenched themselves into tight fists, ready for him to use in a fight. Marco sighed and shook his hands out, trying to relax them. Damn muscle memory. Growing up in a home with a man like his fa-

No.

He would not think of him. He would not think of his childhood. He would not think of what his father made him out, and what he wanted him, to be.

He was not one of _them_. He would never be one of _them_.

Marco closed his eyes, his brows furrowed together as he clenched his jaw in an attempt to suppress the hideous memories. _Take a deep breath_ , he told himself. He breathed deeply through his nose and let it out through his mouth. He was just being paranoid.

He felt calmer after breathing deeply a few more times. _Alright, no more of these shenanigans_ , Marco thought. Excitement replaced his frustration as he remembered that there was someone new in the complex. He took two long strides and he was there at the door to the apartment of 3B, and just as he was about to knock, the door was opened abruptly. Marco was startled at the action, but what utterly _bewildered_ him was that it was not a woman who had age to her features as he had expected, but instead an adolescent of, about, sixteen.

“Well, what do you want?” She said monotonically, her arms spread out across the doorframe; one hand on the doorframe and one on the doorknob.

Marco quickly shook off his shock and said, “I’m Marco, Marco Bodt. I live in apartment 3A across the hall,” He pointed to his door, “I, uh, came over to welcome you to the neighborhood and was curious if you needed any help getting settled in.” He scratched the back of his head. Though it wasn’t until the girl narrowed her steel, grey eyes and raised a slender eyebrow did he realize how pedophile-ish his situation looked. Being a man of twenty-two asking to come into a sixteen (maybe seventeen) year old girl’s home to help her unpack would, of course, turn on warning signals in anyone who had common sense.

 _Great, he thought, Just what I need, the new neighbor thinking that I’m some sort of stalker_. He gave a weak smile and a half-hearted chuckle hoping that it would deter any worries that had woven their way into the girl’s mind (even though he himself didn’t think that he was convincing).

“Sure, come on in.” She stepped aside.

Wait, what?

Marco stood there, dumbfounded. Had he actually convinced her that he wasn’t a creeper?- which he wasn’t. The girl sighed, “Are you going to come in and help me unpack or not?” She stuck her hand on her hip and tapped her foot in annoyance, her steel.

“Oh, yeah, um, sure.” He said as he stepped through the door into apartment 3B. There were boxes EVERYWHERE, some of them were open and many of them were not. There was furniture around the small living room as well; there was a couch shoved up against the wall in the corner, a coffee table haphazardly placed in front of the couch with several papers strewn across the top of it, next to the couch there was a standing light, plugged in and already on. Looking into the kitchen adjacent to the living room, there were a couple of smaller boxes that sat on the counter. Most likely her supper from last night…

“So,” her voice startled Marco out of his thoughts, “You can start with the boxes over there by the couch and if you have any questions on where stuff is or where stuff goes, just ask me.” She moved over to where the kitchen was and began unpacking things that were there.

“Wow, you get straight to the point.” Marco chuckled as he walked over to the boxes. The girl hummed. “You know, I never got your name.” He said as he opened up a box labeled ‘Knick Knacks’.

The girl paused her movements, “Amaryllis.” She said, tucking a piece of her long, black hair behind her ear.

“Got a last name? Or is it just ‘Amaryllis’?” Marco asked pulling out various objects from the box. Amaryllis didn’t answer him, she just kept pulling out kitchen supplies. “I’ll take your silence as: you have a last name, but you’re just not gonna give it to me.” He turned around and leaned against the wall, a bookend in his hand.

“Damn straight.”

Marco chuckled. He turned his head toward where Amaryllis was. Now that he had a moment, he could get a good look at her. She was dressed in all black, at least from what Marco could see, though he was pretty sure that she was wearing a white tee underneath that punk rock jacket of hers. The jacket had zippers and pockets covering the piece of clothing, her skinny jeans (also black) had some tears in them, probably just from being worn so much and not as a fashion statement. Amaryllis also wore shin-high laced-up combat boots. Marco placed the book-end on the coffee table and turned around back to the box to look for its partner.

“How old are you, Amaryllis?” He said. Amaryllis looked at him warily, Marco could feel her eyes on the back of his neck. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“Seventeen.” She said.

“Why are you here without a parent?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” He concurred, still rummaging through the box. Amaryllis pulled out two glasses from a box and set them on the counter.

She paused before saying, “My mother’s finishing up some business in Colorado, she sent me here ahead of time so I could get the apartment set up.” She looked at Marco. “Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.” Marco answered.

“So, Freckles, how long have you lived here?”

“Freckles?” He questioned the name.

“You’ve got freckles,” She explained, “Therefore, that is what I will call you.” Marco rolled his eyes. “Now, will you please answer my question?” Amaryllis brought over the two waters.

“Thank you.” Marco took the glass given to him. “I’ve been here ever since I was able to live on my own.” He sipped the water. It tasted old and musty - like metal. Then again, 3B’s faucets haven’t been turned on in over two years…

“Why’s that?” Inquired Amaryllis, eyeing him.

“...Family issues.” Marco sighed. “My turn to ask you a question,” He set the water glass down on a nearby box, “Why choose to come to Trost, Illinois of all places?”

“My mother’s business requires us to move around a lot.” She sighed, “It’s kinda hard, moving around so much.”

Marco gave her a sad smile and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, if you don’t wanna talk about it, then don’t talk about it. I understand completely, my-” he swallowed, “-father’s business put my family in a similar situation like yours.” Now that Marco was up close to her, he realized that the height difference between them was something to be noted as well. She was short.

Amaryllis smirked and snorted, “Thanks Freckles.”

“That’s what neighbors are for.” He said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bookend of yours to find.”

“Yeah ya do.” The two chuckled and went back to unpacking Amaryllis’ belongings, a comfortable silence filling the air. Now that both of them were at ease, Marco was somewhat enjoying himself as he unpacked the boxes. Though the other bookend still eluded him. Continuing to search for the metal object, Marco opened up another box labeled “Teaching Supplies”. When he laid his eyes on the objects in the large box, Marco was taken aback.

There were knives, machetes, and a couple hand rifles. That wasn’t was fazed him though, what got him was the multiple shells of salt rounds, vials of Holy Water, and the pentacles that were placed over the weapons. “Amaryllis..” Marco trailed.

“Yeah?” Amaryllis responded.

“You’re one of _them_ , aren’t you? You’re a _hunter_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you so happen to leave a comment, I would like you to guess who the intro's about and come up with a chapter title for each chapter as they are posted. You don't have to, it would just be cool to see what you guys think. Hope you all enjoyed.


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